The Angel of Death watches me crash

So, I don't really hate biking in the rain. I have all the requisite stay-dry gear and while I hate showing up places  and immediately taking off my rain pants (awkward) and revealing unfortunate half-wet helmet hair that never dries right, I have this kind of martyr mentality about the whole thing that makes it enjoyable. You really feel Alive, or something like that. Plus the Northwest Curse has descended upon me, and every time I ride my bike to Sam's it starts pouring only to let up the moment I arrive at his apartment. If I didn't ride in the rain I would never see him again. Basically, I'm resigned to enjoying it. Last night however, I really feel like the rain got the best of me.


I was biking home from work and was planning on turning left from 28th onto this quiet side street. The sidewalk is designed to allow you to do this with ease. It looks kind of like this:

Yesterday it looked like this due to some heavy rains that occurred earlier.

I didn't want to get my shoes soaking wet so I developed a plan. I pointed my bike in the right direction (was going relatively fast from the slight downhill across the 28th bridge) and lifted both my feet off the pedals so they would clear the lake. I then hit, not the gently sloping part of the sidewalk that is supposed to accommodate bikes, but the curb. I ran my bike right into the curb. The pillars that mark the entrance were apparently not enough of an indicator for me. The force shot me crotch-first onto the frame of my bike and my left foot into the deepest part of the puddle. If I was a man I probably would have to give up any dreams of siring a child. As it was, I started howling and cursing, and trying to get away from the humiliating scene as quickly as possible. While making my getaway I saw something white out of the corner of my eye. I  looked up to see what I thought was the angel of death, only to realize it was a women in a bathrobe watching her dog poop and my failure. Yes, there was a witness to the stupidity.